


Three Body Problem

by traumschwinge



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, Emotional Baggage, Established Relationship, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Justice Positive, Love Triangles, M/M, Multi, Other, Relationship Discussions, Riding, Unrequited Love, Warrior Hawke (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-02-23 05:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13183005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumschwinge/pseuds/traumschwinge
Summary: Everyone involved thought it would be settled when Isabela slept with Hawke. Hawke thought he'd finally convince somebody he'd flirted with for years to enter a relationship. Anders had hoped it would put an end to Hawke's painful attempts at flirting. And Isabela... Isabela realized just as she looked at Hawke right after, that she was still near panic in the face of commitment.





	1. Anders, Justice, Hawke, Varric+ Isabela

**Author's Note:**

> This fic got away from any and all plans I had for it. I'm sorry this is a lot more serious than I intended. Will update irregularly. 
> 
> Oh and: I refuse to act like Justice isn't a person anymore after the merge so I'm writing him as I see him in Awakening.

Hawke walked Isabela back to the Hanged Man when they were done talking. He’d hoped it’d come off as a sign that the sex hadn’t meant anything, just like she asked. It should have been like any other night, or at least like the few times they’d been out alone, without any of their friends.

In reality, it was just awkward.

All the way to the steps down to Lowtown, Hawke thought of topics to talk about. All the way down the steps, Hawke thought of anything to start a conversation that wouldn’t circle back to what happened earlier. The rest of the way to the Hanged Man, he spent hoping that none of his feelings had shown on his face, that he had been able to lie to Isabela when he’d smiled and told her it had been mutual that they’d slept with each other for fun and out of curiosity.

He really needed a drink and one of Varric’s more ridiculous stories to salvage the night.

They were late enough that business had started to wind down at the Hanged Man, with only the serious drinkers still sticking around. Corff still nodded at them as they made their way toward Varric’s room, Hawke signaling for a drink for both of them.

Varric was in his room, talking to Anders. But when Isabela and Hawke stepped in, their conversation died, both of them looking up. Hawke was almost convinced Anders looked worried for a moment, before he managed to get his expression back under control.

“You’re here late,” Varric broke the silence that was just a moment shy of awkward. “Don’t tell me you were having adventures of your own and forgot about us.”

“Aw, Varric, how could I ever forget about my favorite Dwarf?” Hawke teased back, mouth and habit taking over without consulting him first. He slipped in the seat next to Varric at the head of the table and opposite to Anders, allowing Isabela the most freedom in picking her seat in regards to him. “We met on the way here.”

He was definitely not disappointed when she opted for the seat next to Anders instead of next to him.

“Yes, what could Isabela, of all people, do to make you forget me, Hawke?” Varric smirked. “Don’t try to be cute with me. I know nug-shit when I hear it. Besides…” He pointed at the side of his neck. “You got something there.”

Hawke was pretty sure Varric was lying. Still, not covering the spot with his hand meant to fight reflex with reason. He was temporarily saved by Norah, bringing the ordered drinks for him and Isabela.

As soon as the door was closed again, however, Anders leaned over to Varric, asking him in a stage whisper: “Is that a love bite we’re seeing?”

“Leave him be,” Isabela said around her tankard. “There’s nothing there, sweet thing. They’re just leading you on.” She rolled her eyes.

“So, you’re not here for post-coital drinks, Rivaini?”

“Are you really ready for the answer to this?” Hawke put on his best shit-eating grin, challenging Varric to ask for the details. “You’re not the only one who can call nug-shit.”

Isabela briefly caught his eye, so he indicated a nod at her. She took it as the invitation it was. “I’d never leave him with marks he couldn’t cover up. He’d have to explain them to his Mother.”

“Unlike the noises from his bedroom, I’m sure,” Varric snorted.

“I wonder how she could have heard those,” Hawke shot back, rolling his eyes for effect. “We picked a night when she was a Hightown party to sate our curiosity. Can’t have her getting her hopes up when she’s already thinking about setting me up with somebody.”

Varric smirked. “So I’m right.”

Isabela shot Varric an unreadable look, before her eyes flickered to Hawke. She knew, he was sure of it when she couldn’t even look at him for more than a heartbeat. He had to do something.

“Aw, Varric, of course you are whenever are you not,” he said, mind racing to come up with believable, or at the very least good, bullshit for his favorite dwarf. “But don’t go buy toys and treats for all those imaginary kids calling you ‘Uncle Varric’ just yet. Even though you must be itching to spoil them rotten like you spoil me. Buuuuut…. you know me.” He pointed at himself with both hands, then gestured at Isabela. “You know Isabela. We’re both flirts. Incorrigible flirts. So we thought… well, she’s curious. I’m curious. Maybe we could… sate our curiosity together. Find out if the other is a good lay. Nothing more to it.” He looked up, carefully at Anders. Since he was usually the easiest to read, he’d be the perfect scale to gauge the believability of his lie against.

Anders looked… unsure, maybe a little more sad than usual. Clearly not happy about the whole thing at any rate, but at least Hawke saw no reason to think his lie hadn’t worked. As Hawke’s glance turned down to his drink again, he could see Anders lean in to whisper something into Isabela’s ear. She shushed him, however, before he could get a word out. There was definitely a sense of betrayal in his eyes the next time Hawke looked.

Hawke swallowed. That wasn’t good. He’d been flirting with Anders, too, just like he did with… truth to be told almost anyone he’d ever met. But he’d been serious, as serious as he could be when he was turned down and kept at arm’s length almost as often as he was flirted back at. It had been frustrating and yet… Hawke had hoped. Hadn’t Isabela shown up at this door that evening, he might have… no, not really. Hawke had been debating persuing one of them in all seriousness for weeks now and hadn’t reached a decision. Sleeping with Isabela and getting told it was just for fun after, together with Anders’ expression now looked like he’s blown his chances with both.

“He wasn’t half bad,” Isabela whispered at the other side of the table. She was somehow still loud enough for Varric and Hawke to hear her just fine. “You should see for yourself, sweet thing, sometime.” She flashed Hawke a smirk.

“And maybe let you watch if we do?” Hawke guessed. It felt good to get back to their usual banter.

“Exactly.”

Anders groaned, muffled by his hands he used to bury his face in. “Justice is already fed up with me over this,” he murmured, without offering any explanation what this was. He was also leaning a bit too close to be strictly friendly to Isabela, as Hawke’s jealous mind was prompt to point out. “I don’t think it’d be a good idea.”

“You know,” Isabela mused, clearly meaning the way she turned her body, which mostly brought her cleavage square into Anders’ field of vision. “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like. With blue and angry, I mean. He’s got to be unique, to say the least.”

Anders rolled his eyes, pointedly looking up from Isabela’s breasts to her face. “I don’t think you stand to have any luck there. He’s a romantic. And doesn’t believe a word from your mouth to be true. He didn’t like Zervan much, either.”

“Romantic how?” Hawke asked. It seemed wondrous. He hadn’t even considered spirits would take interest in romance, or anything like that on the whole, really. Justice didn’t even act like he was interested in being friends with anyone, judging from the one time Hawke had met him in the Fade.

Anders sighed. “Romantic romantic. He… okay, look, I told you, before we… y’know… there was Kristoff. Or his body, really, I never met Kristoff while he was alive. But this Kristoff had a wife. We… remember. And even before… us… Justice once even said, he’d like such a bond, to experience it for himself what Kristoff and his wife had.” He glowered at Isabela, briefly. It couldn’t completely burn away the pained expression on his face, though. “He doesn’t care for single nights of distraction. Or even disapproves of them. Strongly, in your case.”

“My case? What did I ever do to deserve that?” Isabela gasped in mock disbelief.

Hawke held up his hands to try and shush Isabela. “Nonono, wait. Wait. Hold up.” He took a breath. “Justice had a wife?!”

“Kristoff had,” Anders corrected. “And in his body, Justice remembered it. It’s all a bit… second-hand.”

“So that means… Justice… our resident fade spirit Justice…” Varric said, slowly, like a man inching forward on treacherous, unfamiliar ground. “That Justice, would be amenable to courtship?”

“Long and slow and sincere. With romantic outings and presents,” Anders confirmed. “If he doesn’t stop me I could give you a whole list of ideas. The commander had a knack for finding the right presents for anyone. Including Justice.”

The words slowly made their way into Hawke’s conscious understanding. Somewhere around “romantic outings” a part of his mind had simply shut down, unable to cope with this newly revealed part of reality.

“...sun set at the Wounded Coast?” Hawke heard Varric ask as he started to come to again.

Anders shrugged. “Why not? It’s pretty enough. He likes nature more than he likes people and I think he also somewhat likes the ocean. Too bad we don’t have proper woods around here.”

“And after that, you could go and kill a bunch of slavers, to round off the day,” Varric mused, shaking his head. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

Anders shook his head. “I’m being sincere. I haven’t lied, well, lied much, since we merged. Why would I lie now?”

“Hm, yes, I knew there was something different about you,” Isabela teased. She put an arm around Anders’ shoulders. To Hawke’s slight, secret satisfaction, Anders was trying to lean away from her, even if it was just barely. “You used to tell lies as easy as breathing and now look at you…”

“I was always incompetent at cards,” Anders protested weakly.

“You just never learned how to cheat with the big girls,” Isabela smirked. “I’m still willing to teach you.”

“No thanks.” Anders sighed again. He caught a stray strand of hair and pushed it back behind his ear. “I’m pretty thankful that my time as a compulsive liar is over.”

“Cheating at cards isn’t the same as lying, Blondie.” From out of nowhere, Varric produced a deck of cards. “It’s just part of the game if you’re playing with us. We all cheat. Even Hawke. It’s half the fun of it. Come on, let us teach you. It’s sad watching you lose even to Merrill.”

“It’s adorable watching you both try and play by the rules, though.” Isabela was smiling as she picked up the cards Varric had dealt her.

“Look at it like this,” Hawke, who was better than Anders at understanding when Varric and Isabela had won and merely didn’t want to announce it yet, said. “If we all cheat, it turns from a game of luck to a game of actual skill. Like sparring, but with our wits? Which is fairer and therefore… uh? More just?”

Varric let out an impressed whistle behind his cards. “Nice one, Hawke.”

“Are you trying to convince me or to convince Justice? Because if you want to play with Justice, I won’t object.” Anders blinked a couple of times, blue light ghosting around the edges of his eyes. “He wouldn’t either. He liked your explanation, Hawke.”

A little stunned, Hawke looked from Isabela to Varric and back. He was looking for help, but, it turned out, he was looking in the wrong places. After a moment or two he cleared his throat. “He did?”

Anders nodded. There was the beginning of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “He doesn’t understand most mortal customs but he’s willing to learn. And… see, I think he could do with making some friends again.”

“Well then.” Hawke clapped his hands eagerly. Cards was so much simpler than making sense of the up to just moments ago to him unknown depths of Justice’s emotional life. And right now, Hawke wanted simple distractions. “Let’s teach Justice how to cheat.”

Anders closed his eyes. The change in posture when Justice took over wasn’t subtle. He sat up straighter even before he opened his eyes to reveal that they’d gone from honeyed brown to lyrium blue. Justice did not slouch, didn’t draw his shoulders in to ward off the rest of the world. Even if it was still Anders’ body, he looked much more self-confident than Anders had ever shown himself to be.

“Justice?” Hawke still asked, as Justice slowly blinked at him.

“Hawke,” Justice said with a nod. “I remember you from when we met in the fade.”

Hawke swallowed. That hadn’t gone well, exactly. Not as bad as with everyone else, but still. With Justice, he always felt a little as if he was being judged and found wanting. “Uhm… yes.”

Justice’s gaze moved to Varric whom he greeted with a nod and an unreadable expression. Isabela got half a glance before Justice turned away from her again.

“Hey!” Isabela protested. “No greeting for me?”

“No,” Justice said flatly. “We don’t want me to talk to you.”

“We?” Isabela echoed. “Anders too? What is he trying to do? Protect your innocence?” Her voice dropped into a purr. “You know I could teach you many things about mortal customs.”

“I do not need any protecting,” Justice declared. “And neither do I wish to learn of the kind of custom you are willing to teach me.” He lifted the cards Varric had dealt and looked at his hand. “As I understood, the three of you wished to teach how to cheat at this game. I do know the rules, but how is cheating part of it when it’s not in the rules?”

All eyes turned to Hawke who cleared his throat again. “Well, as I said… uhm. It’s skill, you see? We’re all using our sleight of hand… our dexterity… to our advantage while we try to get the best hand according to the rules. And some is tactics and some is counting and some just experience.”

“So this cheating is not about lying and deceiving your enemies?” Justice asked. “Is this another one of those mortal customs where you use your wits to take advantage of others, where you try and fool the ones you’re talking to like when merchants barter in the market?”

Since Justice didn’t sound much more displeased than Hawke had expected, Hawke nodded. “Pretty much. We all know that it’s expected. It’s like… giving a small boon to the ones who are more skillful than their opponents?” He hadn’t wanted it to come out as a question but he couldn’t help it.

“Anders doesn’t cheat at cards,” Justice observed.

Isabela put a hand on his arm. “Kitten, that’s because he’s so bad at it. He knows it wouldn’t work. He has too many tells when he lies.”

“He lies all the time.”

“Not anymore.”

“Yes he does.” Justice shook his head. “He lies every day. He lies to his patients when he tells them it will not hurt. He lies to his patients when he tells them they will be better in a minute. He even lies to them when he tells them that they can work despite illness.”

“Those aren’t real lies,” Varric explained patiently. “He’s just saying them to make people feel better. It’s part of being a healer.”

“Yet he knows what he says is not the truth,” Justice persisted.

“Yeah, but when you broke your leg the last thing you wanna hear is the guy fixing you telling you that it’ll hurt really bad when he touches you, you see?”

Justice thought about this for a moment. “I… think I see,” he eventually said.

“Uhm,” Hawke made just before the pause that had followed became an awkward silence. He was shuffling his hand. “So… cards?”

“Cards, yes,” Justice agreed.

“We should probably start with the counting,” Varric suggested. “That’s not yet cheating, per se, you know? It’s about watching and knowing what’s been played, what you might draw and so on.”

“It helps you figure out how likely it is that you’ll get what you want or that the next is the Angel of Death,” Isabela added. “‘Course knowing how likely a certain hand is also helps with knowing when to bet or fold. And knowing which ones are better and how likely those are.”

Justice nodded slowly. “There is knowledge involved in this. More than I thought.”

“It’s much more than luck,” Isabela smirked. “That might be news to you, Kitten, I know. Anders never really got it, see?”

Justice nodded solemnly. “Anders draws and hopes for the best.”

“Right,” Isabela said cheerfully, subtly trying to glare daggers at Hawke who’d just kicked her under the cover of the table. Hawke mouthed “you’re mean” back at her. She glowered some more. “So better not do that if you want to win when playing with us.”

“How about we stop talking now and play a couple of rounds with open hands?” Varric suggested. “If you’re so intend on talking, why not explain to Justice why you take your turns the way you do until he gets it? Practice gotta be better than talking theory all night.”

It took them a couple of rounds to work out how best to do it and still play. It also took Isabela and Hawke just about as long to stop trying to smuggle extra cards in and out of their hands and all the other little tricks they usually played with but Varric was patient with them. Much more so than Justice, anyway, who quickly proved to have a keen eye for their little tricks and slights of hand and soon put an end to it whenever he spotted it. To Hawke’s eternal dismay, he was caught a couple of times more than even Isabela and found himself on the receiving end of Justice silent disapproval every time. It helped dissuade him, but his fingers needed more reminders than just conscious thought to stop.

They ended the night on a few normal rounds when Varric declared he had every confidence Justice had understood everything what was to understand and only needed more practice. Isabela won most, with one round going to Justice and Varric each. Hawke took until the last round to work out why he’d such a losing streak when he saw Justice and Isabela exchange cards. It was just a flicker of a movement and done under the table but he was sure of what he’d seen.

When he protested, Isabela laughed at him. “Serves you right for cheating earlier.”

“That…” Hawke faltered. Justice had, almost imperceptibly, nodded at Isabela’s words. “Really?”

“Hate to tell you, Hawke,” Varric grinned. “But Rivaini’s got a point there.”

“And you let them?” Hawke clasped both hands to his heart. “Varric, you hurt me.”

Varric passed a card to Justice out in the open above the table with a smirk. “ _Let them_ is such a vague term.”

Hawke gasped.

“Oh sweet thing,” Isabela laughed. She reached across the table and patted Hawke’s hand. “Take it as a learning experience.”

Hawke scowled at her. “Was this your idea?”

“It was my idea,” Justice interjected. “To teach you not to cheat, Hawke.”

“When to cheat,” Isabela corrected. “He did it the first real round, Varric. Can you believe it? When we said no cheating.”

“So you two teamed up and then only involved me when I noticed.” Varric shook his head but he was still smiling. “Didn’t even notice it for two more rounds. You’re a swift hand, Blo-” He frowned. “Hm, no. Blondie doesn’t cut it now, does it? You’re not Blondie.”

Justice reached up to a strand of hair and tugged it free to look at it. “This body’s hair is blond,” he said slowly. “This is the body I inhabit. It is my body as well as Anders’. Therefore, I do not understand why Blondie would be the wrong name to call me.”

Varric opened his mouth, tried for words and closed it again. He shook his head. “You might have a point there."

“Wait wait wait back on topic.” Hawke made a gesture like he wanted to roll some invisible yarn around his hand. “So, if I cheat, it’s wrong. But if Justice cheats against me when I cheated, that’s all well and good?”

“It was a just punishment for your offense,” Justice declared. It would have been better and more solemn, Hawke thought, if Isabela was sitting right next to him smirking broadly.

Hawke threw his hand on the discard pile. “Well, fine. I think I’ve had enough for a day.” He ruffled his hair. “It’s so hard not switch cards. I always do that. It’s part of the game. I don’t get how you managed to stop yourself.” He jabbed a finger at Isabela.

“Practice and self-control,” Isabela laughed. She collected the cards from Justice’s hand and put them in the middle with her own so she could push the whole deck to Varric. “Mostly self-control.”

“What that supposed to mean?” Hawke rumbled.

“Oh, sweet thing,” Isabela said, getting up and prowling over to Hawke. She brushed his bangs back to kiss him on the forehead. “Nothing. It’s not supposed to mean anything.”

Hawke was only too aware of the way Justice glared at them but he didn’t care enough in that moment. He put his hands on Isabela’s hips, pulled her closer and pouted as best as he could. “Can’t you nurse my bruised ego tonight?”

She put a hand on his cheek, gently, almost tenderly, for a mere moment. The look in her eyes was just as soft. Enough to make Hawke hope. But it was over before anything could happen. Isabela patted his cheek, a little harder than necessary. “I did quite enough of that before we came here. Not tonight. Go home, Hawke.”

“Yeah, go home, Hawke,” Varric repeated. “I don’t care if you’re taking Rivaini with you or not but get out of my room before you get all mushy like that. It’s late anyway.” He turned to Justice. “You too, Blondy. Although… maybe let Anders do the actual going. You know… you glow. People might think of the right reason why.”

Justice nodded. He closed his eyes. This time, it took longer for a change to happen. Anders slumped into his chair, blinking his eyes open. He yawned. “How late is it?” He tried to push the stand of hair Justice had tugged loose back but it wouldn’t stay.

“Late.” Varric patted his knee. “You should take Hawke and make sure you both get home.”

Anders hummed in agreement. He got up and stretched for a moment. “Hawke?”

Hawke dropped his hands from Isabela’s hips. “Coming,” he murmured. He pushed his chair back and tried to sidestep Isabela, but she caught his hand and kissed him on the cheek.  
“Good night, Hawke,” she said. Then, she turned to Anders and kissed his cheek as well. “Good night, Justice. It was fun.” She winked, then kissed his other cheek. “Good night, Anders.”

“Did I miss something important?” Anders asked as they walked out of the Hanged Man. He was still yawning occasionally.

Hawke shook his head. “Not particularly. Justice united everyone against me for cheating. Did… I have no idea how it works but… did you sleep?” He eyed Anders, not sure if he should be worried.

“I…” Anders shrugged. “It’s hard to explain. I slept, kind of? Only, it’s just my mind that does the sleeping and not our body. I sometimes do that when we’re alone and Justice takes over. It’s a nice break, every now and then.” He blinked at Hawke, slowly. “Did you just say Justice teamed up with Varric and Isabela against you?”

Hawke nodded miserably. “Mostly with Isabela.”

“Well, that explains the good-night kiss, then.” Anders laughed.

They walked in silence the short way to the spot where they usually parted ways. “Uhm,” Hawke started up. “You wouldn’t happen to want to come with me? Home?”

“Hawke…” Anders was looking at him but his lips were a thin line.

“To sleep! I thought… well, you look like you could do with a night in a proper bed in a warm room with no draft and…” Hawke clapped his mouth shut. He was babbling and knew it.

“Hawke.” Anders sighed. “Not today. Please. Just… not today.” He stepped up into Hawke’s space and hugged him for a brief moment. “I can’t do this today.”

With that, he turned and left. It wasn’t quite a flight though it didn’t make Hawke feel any better.


	2. Anders/Isabela

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela visits Anders. To talk, obviously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the other chapter I had prewritten before posting. I'm currently working on Ch3 but I'm slow.
> 
> Oh and btw this chapter is the reason why the fic is explicit. ...And I probably should add an "established relationship" tag, even though those two would vehemently deny having one.

It was late in the afternoon when Isabela sauntered into the clinic. Most patients of the day had already left, with only two or three that would still need Anders’ attention before he could close up. He waved at her to wait in the back.

When he went to look for her after the clinic was empty and locked, the lamps outside extinguished, he found her on his cot, playing with a dagger. He looked at her from where he was leaning against the doorframe, unable to think of anything to say. Nothing he’d tried to come up with sounded right in his head and he was sure it’d sound worse out loud.

“This is silly!” Isabela burst out when the silence between them had grown unbearable. She sheathed her dagger. “I came here to talk and now I don’t even know where to start.” She laughed. “Or what about, even.”

Anders relaxed a little. “That makes two of us, then.” A small smile crept onto his face. “I really thought, you and Hawke… but yesterday…?” He swallowed. Isabela was right, this was silly. He couldn’t even ask proper questions.

Isabela slumped back, leaning on her arms, and looked intently at the stained ceiling. “I got cold feet.” She swallowed. “He… the way he looked at me… I couldn’t stay. I can’t stay when he asks me like that.”

“So it was your idea to call it curiosity sated?” Anders got it out somehow before the constricting feeling in his chest set in. It stung to hear what he’d already had assumed. Hawke hadn’t looked like somebody who’d amiably agreed to something the night before. He might have tried to hide it but it had been obvious that he’d gotten his heart at least chipped if not outright broken. Anders wasn’t sure if it was his own voice in his head or Justice telling him to breathe.

“Anders…” Isabela had sat up again and was reaching for him but he swung his hand back, away from her grasp.

“It’s alright,” he murmured. “I just need a moment to… really, it’s fine.” He tried to laugh but failed. “I’ll be fine.”

“Anders…” Isabela tried again. She didn’t reach out for him this time. “I’m sorry. Really, truly sorry.”

He waved a hand. “It’s fine, really. I just…” He sighed. Pushed a hand into his hair, tugging it free. “I hoped if you… the two of you… I mean… I wanted to put this longing, this crush behind me and be happy for you. I really hoped…” He faltered. “It’ll be fine.”

“I know, sweet thing.” Isabela held her arms open. “Can I try to hug it better?”

He smiled, even though he didn’t manage for it to reach his eyes, and took a tentative step forward. He motioned at her to shift over and make room on the bed for him. As soon as he dropped on the cot, Isabela wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close. He went without much resistance.

“Hawke asked me to come home with him yesterday.” Anders tried to laugh again, because laughing was so much better than crying. “Just for… the night. To sleep, in a warm bed in a safe place. And… sometimes it’s like he really doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand… he can’t see why I can’t. We can’t, neither of us. And…” His voice cracked.

“Hawke’s an idiot.” Isabela had detached one of her hands from his shoulder to rub small circles into his back. “Whatever else he is. Handsome, confident, charismatic. Doesn’t matter. He’s still an idiot.”

“Don’t tell me you slept with him without really liking him, because I know you do.” Anders leaned his head against her shoulder. “He’s just bad with timing.”

“And presents,” Isabela added. “He got me a ship in a bottle and told me it had made him think of me. Me! A landlocked captain.” She let out a long suffering sigh. “It’s times like that that make me wonder how I can think that he might be the one. And then he looks at me like I’m the only woman in the world and… everything in me screams for me to run. Run and never look back.”

“And that’s how you end up here, again.” Anders’ hands snuck around her waist and held onto her. “Not that I’m complaining about it, mind.”

“You at least don’t ambush me after to talk about your feelings for me.”

“I could, if you wanted to,” Anders said, aiming for lightly and missing it only by a hair. “ _ Sometimes it’s like you’re the only woman who’s ever understood me. _ ”

She turned in his embrace and tilted his head up so she could look him in the eye. “ _ You’re the first since that I wanted to come back to.” _

His embrace tightened briefly until she stopped gripping his shoulder so tight.

“Hawke’d never understand,” she murmured into his hair.

“Hawke’s still not over his sister,” Anders agreed. “Family is important to him.”

“How do you…?”

“He’s asking me if I heard something, every now and then.” Anders clenched one hand into a fist, gripping the fabric of her tunic. “Not that I do. I try to avoid other… it’s… I’d try, but…”

“Bad memories?”

“And good ones. Those…”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll still have Justice. Always.”

The looming silence finally settled over them. After another long moment, Anders put his head back down against Isabela’s shoulder. She let him, taking the hand not around his shoulders to card gently through his hair.

They sat like that for a long time.

“I won’t tell Hawke no forever,” Anders murmured eventually. “I can’t keep on… eventually… I can’t do something I can’t take back. What am I to do?” He held onto her. It grounded him. Suppressed the urge to run, to get up and take his things and never look back. Between Justice and Isabela, he could just about manage not to move.

Isabela rubbed his back, up and down, in time with his breathing. “It’d be easier if you didn’t care about him.” She swallowed. “You can’t just… do what I did. You can’t.” Her hands stilled for a moment. “You could but you’d…” She tensed, her fingers digging into him. “Promise me not to.”

“He’ll eventually get over it.”

“Yes.”

He forced himself to breathe, deep, even, in, all the way until it felt like it filled the whole of his torso, and out again. “I’m still here. I’ll be here. I’m not… not now anyway.”

“I know.” She shook her head. One hand had found its way back into his hair and was tugging at strands of it. “This is so unlike me and it’s driving me insane.”

“It’s unlike Captain Isabela, you mean.” A shaky breath before his breathing normalized. “It’s good to have a place to just be. That’s what I like about you. I don’t have to be anyone. I can be me. You already know. And you don’t have to be Captain. You don’t have to be the Duellist extraordinaire. You’re you, because right here, there’s no one else.”

She swatted him. “Don’t get philosophical on me, I think I just had an idea. I’ve been thinking about it all wrong.”

He tried to sit up, bumped against her hand on his head and settled back. “Fine. Tell me your idea.”

“Justice will hate it.”

“It’s your idea. There’s a good chance of that either way.”

“I warned you.” She shrugged. “The problem is that we don’t want Hawke to think it’s for forever and inseparable. There needs to be an option out. Casual hookups work fine for us.” She swatted him again when he scoffed. “They do. Or do you really expect me to still be here in a month?”

“No. I don’t even think you’d stay until the morning most times.” He sighed. “What’s your solution? You keep sleeping with Hawke and tell yourself that it’s not a relationship?”

“Stop making it sound like it’s a bad idea. And I wasn’t finished.” She took a deep breath so she could get all of it out in one go. “What if… what if I talked him into sleeping with us both?” When he didn’t react in any way, she went on. “It’s like… we could split it all between us.”

“Split,” he repeated. “And…” He swallowed. “With two of us and him… it looks a lot less like a relationship for forever.”

“It’s not that bad, right?”

“I…” He pressed his lips together. “I think if he’d agree… it’s not too bad.”

“Just think about it,” she went on, giving her voice a dreamy tone. “Two attractive people in bed with you. Think of all the sex we could have with Hawke. It’s gotta be better the second time. And the third. When we actually know what works for us. No fumbling with strangers.”

Anders tried not to be suddenly aware of the warm body pressed against his, the clever fingers all over him. “Think of all the talks we wouldn’t have with him after,” he said. Not as glumly as he’d hoped, though. 

“Exactly.” She nudged him. “There’s no real pillow talk if it’s just sex. Hawke’s just as gorgeous without any clothes on.”

“Isabela…”

She turned, putting both hands on his shoulders. “Come to think of it,” she purred. “He’d look even better with you on. All for me to watch and…” Her right hand trailed down his chest. “Touch,” she breathed.

“Isabela…” he tried again. His hands were firmly on the bed but he wasn’t pushing her away nor leaning back from her touch.

“I’m done talking.” She undid the fastenings of his coat, one by one. “I could do with the distraction. You could, too. You’re awfully tense.” Her other hand brushed down his neck, over his shoulder, pushing his coat out of the way in the same movement.

“Really, I don’t…”

Hands on his shoulders, gripping tight stopped him. He looked up in Isabela's eyes. "Please, I need this. Now. And it only works if it's you."

His palm found her cheek almost on its own. Leaning in was so easy. Her lips were already level with his. He could feel the sigh from her, feel her shudder. Her grip tensed even more. He wrapped his free hand around her waist.

They pulled back, each holding their breath. Anders could see her pupils blown wide from the kiss, so dark and perfect he was afraid he could drown in them, lose himself forever. They breathed in at the same time, leaning forward again, once more closing the distance between their lips.

There was a noise in the kiss, vibrating through both their chests; something between a moan and a whimper, full of longing for more. So much more.

Anders fumbled for the hem of Isabela’s tunic, tugging it up, out of the way but her hands on his stilled his movement. Instead she guided him back up, to the stings that kept it closed over her chest. It came loose with a single tug. Following her guidance, he put his hands on her shoulders, pushing the straps down her arms. She slipped free of them a moment later, before her hands were between them, fumbling with her own smalls and the strings of his pants.

Involuntarily, he bucked up against her hand. She ground down in return, eliciting moans from both of them.

She kissed him again as she took his penis in her hand, catching the gasp off his lips. Deft fingers held him in place while she raised her hips to ease him inside her. She sunk down slowly, pausing every now and then. When she was seated again, she leaned her head on his shoulder.

He ran a hand down her back and waited.

Soon enough, Isabela straightened again. She moved slowly, breathing in time with the rise and fall of her hips.

This time, he was ready for her lips, met her halfway in another open mouthed kiss. The need for air forced them apart more than before. Her lips were colder, her tongue drier, but the fire in his chest she kindled with the kisses burnt only brighter for it.

Anders raised a hand to her chest, shaking slightly. His fingers followed the curve of her breast for a moment, two. His hands weren’t big enough to envelop her whole breast, but he did try, squeezing just hard enough, the way he knew she liked it. It earned him a moan, and, even more encouragingly, a sharp downward thrust. He could feel her twitch around him.

It took him a couple of tries before he was confident enough, before he found his magic with a firm enough grip. Sparks danced between his fingers. He waited for the short nod of agreement from Isabela, before he put them on her again. The tingle in her chest made her gasp and clench around him with new force. For a while, he touched without focus, allowing her to get re-aquainted with the prickle of electricity. 

Eventually, the brush of his fingertips became purposeful again. He focused on her nipples, altering intensity as well as he could. She shivered, arching her back to press her chest against his hands at the same time. Her legs were starting to shake as she pushed herself up, sinking down all the way each time, her pussy clenching and unclenching without distinguishable rhythm.

As she was getting close, he pressed a hand flat on her belly. The ripples he pushed into her were stronger, just strong enough to make her muscles contract slightly. She groaned, her head thrown back and her mouth open wide. He groaned, too, from the grip she had on him and from her renewed speed with which she rode him.

Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, pushing her body up in tandem with her legs. She was shaking all over now. Juices were gushing out of her in brief waves, sticking to her thighs and his alike.

She surged forward as her orgasm started to hit, wrapped her arms around his neck and crashing her mouth on his. He had to bring an arm behind him to stop them both from falling over or at least thumping hard against the wall. Her hips stuttered now but she was still moving, riding out her orgasm.

His own orgasm was more of an afterthought after that; forgotten between all the little kisses she peppered his face with as she wound down. But her hips didn’t still until he was done and leaning against her, relaxed and pleasantly tired.

Eventually, the kisses stopped, too. Their eyes locked instead, for another long moment. Neither knew exactly what to say.

Isabela was the first to find back to herself. She lifted herself up to let him slip out of her. For the briefest flicker of a moment, she looked at him. But it was gone too quick to convey anything more than a passing glance. Without a word, she pushed herself up and started fixing her clothes, her back turned to him.

Anders bit his lips. He knew with desperate clarity that nothing he could say now would be the right thing. Just about anything he could say would be very wrong, even. So he kept his mouth shut. With his smalls, he wiped at the sticky mess in his lap as best as he could, dropping them to the floor to be dealt with later when he was done. He didn’t bother with his coat when he was done retying his breeches. He just sat, awkwardly, and waited for a cue of any kind from Isabela.

“This…” she said, in an uncharacteristically small voice, to the opposite wall. She cleared her throat, found a bit of strength for her wavering voice. “This was normal. Like always. We… we should… do this more often. Like this. Maybe. The next time, anyway, whenever that is.”

A part of him wanted to quip something stupid about now being thoroughly distracted from all things Hawke. It’d be so easy, an old habit to rely on, but the completely wrong thing to say at the moment. He needed to think about her first, just for once. So, as lightly as he could, he said, “If you run now, who’d treat the next rash? I always have a salve ready, for all emergencies.”

She turned on the ball of her foot and glared angry daggers at him. “That was once!”

“Yes, but…” He shrugged and raised his hand to count on his fingers for her to see. “You didn’t come to me when it started. You didn’t come to me when it got bad. You did come to me to sleep with me and wouldn’t have told me if I hadn’t spotted it. I think I’m allowed to drag that up once in awhile.” He managed a lopsided smile. “Promising me the sweet pleasures of you flesh and it turns out to be more work.”

“You…” She bristled visibly, drawing in air that made her breast swell and her back straighten. However, a moment later, she breathed out and with it, deflated again. Instead of whatever she’d meant to do, she flicked his forehead. “Silly.”

Smirking, Anders covered the flicked spot with his hand. “But did it work?”

“Yeah.” Isabela shrugged. “I’m still me, you’re still you. That’s what you meant to say, right?”

Anders waved a hand in dismissal. “Whenever you weren’t?”

She nodded. “Right.” She looked around, a bit lost. “Right,” she repeated. She brushed down her tunic. “I’m gonna get going now, then.” She rolled her eyes when she saw the worried look he didn’t quite manage to hide. “Home. To the Hanged Man. Maybe I’ll find someone up for a few hands of cards for their money.”

“Have fun, don’t take all their money.” Anders waved her goodbye. “I’ll probably be up later, too. Varric insists I eat, so, if Hawke doesn’t drag in some kind of emergency, I’ll see you later, Captain?”

Already retreating to the door, Isabela paused. “See you, Anders.” She breathed in like she wanted to say more, but then, she just raised her head and walked out.

When he’d heard her close the door to the clinic, Anders dropped back on the bed. Unusually of the same mind as Justice about this matter, he wondered what the Void he was doing.


	3. Hawke+Justice

A noise brought Anders back to the world around him what had to be hours later. The room had gone dark and there was no light coming in through the open door to the clinic, either. A flick of his wrist set the stub of candle he kept on his desk alight, turning the darkness into a more pleasant gloom.

He rubbed his forehead. As always when he was fighting with Justice, his head was pounding.  
It wasn’t the only pounding, though. Somebody was knocking on the door to the clinic. Again. It wasn’t the urgent double fisted hammering of an emergency. Nor was it the secret code Lirene and her people used when they came outside schedule. To Anders’ relief, it wasn’t the sound of platemail on wood, either, which meant no templars, should those have learned to knock instead of just storming in unbidden as they wished.

Anders recognized the knocking. With a sigh, he picked his coat from the bed and slung it over his shoulders. It had gotten clammy as well as dark while he’d been busy otherwise.

“Hawke,” Anders sighed as he opened the door. “Really, I don’t…” He faltered when he noticed Hawke was alone. No elves, no Varric, no guard captain anywhere to be seen. “Uhm… what’s this about? If you caught yourself something embarrassing and personal, I-”

“I brought food,” Hawke blurted out. He was holding up a basket with a determined expression. It looked like a mix of raising a shield and presenting proof. “I thought… er… since you said, you know… uhm… I brought us food.”

Anders fought down the urge to slam the door in Hawke’s face. His knuckles on the hand holding onto the door turned white with effort. “Food?” he forced himself to say. “Hawke, I already let Varric feed me because he insists. You don’t have to. Really.”

“Oh.” Hawke lowered the basket again. “Have you already eaten? I thought, well, you said, Justice. He likes pretty nature. Landscape. That was when he walked around in a corpse, yeah? So, I thought, maybe, now that he has some more senses, food could be nice for him, too? The taste and smell. I mean… But if you’re full already I’ll just get going again…”

Anders opened his mouth for another try at a gentle but firm verbal push. But a word in all that blabbering coming out of Hawke’s mouth had nudged something in his mind that was now screaming for attention over the headache. “Justice?!” Anders didn’t even try not to gape at Hawke.

“Uhm… not a good idea?” Hawke now looked seriously worried.

“Well.” Anders cleared his throat. “It’s certainly a new one.” He looked Hawke up and down, trying to calm his sudden suspicion. But Hawke was dressed just normal, or at least like Anders assumed he would on a day at home. The red tunic certainly wasn’t fancy for Hightown, even though it was much finer than anything one would see in other parts of town. The same could be said for the pants Hawke was wearing. Neither would be something Hawke would pick to impress anyone. “This is not some ill-thought-out romantic gesture, is it?”

Hawke’s eyes widened, far enough to be visible in the gloom, but he managed to compose himself again quickly. “No! No, I… no! It’s just between friends. I want to be friends. And say sorry for yesterday. Promise.” He cleared his throat. “Unless…” He looked away. “If you’d want it to be… with you and me…?”

Reflexively, Anders tensed his grip on the door, ready to slam it shut, Hawke or not. He could feel the wave of panic surge up in his chest, followed by Justice, for barely long enough to keep him from doing anything, pushing his mind aside, taking control of their body. Justice said something that Anders couldn’t register. And then he retreated again. Anders breathed out deeply. His head was spinning in addition to aching now. He still held onto the door. This time for support.

Hawke blinked at him. “Errr, Anders? Is that alright with you, too?”

“What?” Anders held his head. “What did Justice say?”

“That the meal will be appreciated but he asks me not to…” Hawke looked away again. “To leave you alone with romantic dinners and similar flirtations. Which!” He held up a hand. “It was a joke. You said you’re not interested often enough. And besides, I have Isabela.”

“Isabela,” Anders croaked, trying to drown out the renewed angry roar of argument from Justice.

“Yeah, Isabela. I mean, she said she didn’t want to have a relationship but… she’s not opposed to more sex and… uh… right now…” Hawke shrugged. “It’s what I want right now. It’s enough. It’s fine.”

Anders did his best to follow what Hawke was saying, despite the renewed uproar in his head. And, as Justice insitendly pointed out over and over again, the pang of undirected jealousy in his chest. “You…” Anders tried and then realized that he had no way of continuing the sentence. “Hawke…” he tried again. He sighed. “Come in. You came for Justice tonight. Not to pick up advice. From me. On Isabela. Which… let’s not talk about her today, anyway. Just not tonight. My head hurts already. We’ve been fighting. Your dinner… it’s a break we both need. Please?”

Hawke hesitated, just for a moment, but long enough to cause Anders to step aside and hold the door open for him. They settled down, once the door was closed again, on a cot each, an old crate as a table between them. Hawke put his basket on top of it. They looked at each other, clearly at a loss for words.

“Look, er.” Hawke fidgeted. “Ehm, it’s… do you… like? Eh. No. Do you love her? Isabela I mean?”

Anders blinked at him. “Love? Isabela?” He forced himself to keep breathing. “It doesn’t matter. Love doesn’t matter, I mean. It never has mattered. So. You wanted to try and be friends with Justice. That one works. I know. I tried. I’ll be all the better for it if I go to sleep. Really. I’ll be fine. I don’t want to be in your way.”

“Anders, wait-” Hawke thrust out a hand as if to hold Anders back. Anders’ mind was already slipping back, though, the switch with Justice as easy as breathing in their agitated states. Strong emotions would always weaken the boundaries between them.  
Justice opened his eyes a moment later. His expression was mostly displeased. He even folded his arms in front of his chest.  
Hawke pulled his outstretched arm back. “Is Anders… really alright?” he asked meekly.

“He will be.” Justice pressed his lips together when he was done talking.

Hawke fidgeted. He reached for the cloth covering the food, not quite pulling it off but picking at it and tugging at the edges. “Only, I… I didn’t think… what’s so bad about love? It’s not just Isabela, is it? He’s like that with… me… too…” Hawke gave up. He could stare down any opponent, show confidence even in front of a demon or dragon. But facing a disapproving Justice to talk about what veered much too close to his own bruised feelings already was too much. About the same amount of too much that facing Isabela or Anders was, for that matter.

“I do not understand him myself either,” Justice declared. His face softened a bit, but his posture remained hard. “He will always shrink back from the topic of real love, be it in dialogue or thoughts. All I know is that it is causing him pain, although I cannot understand why.”

“So…” Hawke looked at his fingers while he twirled and twisted the cloth around. “Does that mean… does he love her? He… he reacted… I mean… why would he act like that if he weren’t… he clearly doesn’t want me… or..?” He took a deep breath.

“I cannot tell you this, Hawke,” Justice said. “If Anders does not wish to tell you, revealing the information to you would be a betrayal. But I can tell you that whatever he feels, he will not call it love.”

Hawke nodded, glumly. He’d been bracing himself for this, had been telling himself that there was a chance Anders was turning him down because he didn’t return his feelings. In reality, having to hear from none other than Justice was almost as bad as having to hear it from Anders himself.

“Hawke, there is a question I would like to ask you,” Justice said after a long pause. He’d had his gaze fixed on Hawke the entire time, even though Hawke couldn’t lift his head to meet his gaze. “I do not understand this love mortals feel. I do not understand the way it makes you act. It looks to me like it is a binding spell that confuses mortals and makes you act foolishly. One will deny their love with all their might. Others pursue their beloved with never ending determination against all reason. How can it be that you can both love somebody and still say it is only a distraction when you couple?”

Hawke’s mouth had been slowly opening while Justice was talking and now he needed another minute to close it again. He had no idea what to say to that question. It sounded more like a list of all the things he’d done and beaten himself up over lately. He swallowed. “Most of the time, nobody understands love,” he eventually said, option for honesty out of sheer self-defence. “Love is scary. I mean, we… it’s… uh… you see… when you’re in love… losing the one you’re in love with… that’s the worst you can imagine. And… if you don’t know that you both feel the same… making the first step is hard. I’d rather hide that I’m in love than losing any of my friends.” He took a deep breath. “If I said I were in love, earnestly, there is always a chance that I’ll be left for it.”

Justice studied his face with an expression that could only be called wonder. “I see,” he murmured after the longest pause. “Love makes you put a greater value to the feelings of another being than to your own. You have to consider their emotions before your actions. It truly binds one.”

Hawke hesitated. Real love was like that. But he’d seen it go wrong, too. He’d overheard Isabela, once, relating a story of her late husband, in hushed voice and with an unreadable expression. He’d been told, by Anders himself, that mage lovers could be ripped apart at whim. He swallowed. Thinking about it, it was clear why both would reject him.

“It’s… more than that, I think,” Hawke said slowly. “It’s… it’s change. If you’re… if you’re both in love, if you have someone, you can’t imagine losing them while you’re in love. It would be like losing half of yourself.” He clenched his fists and flexed his fingers after. “It’s bad enough when you’re the only one in love, but having it, being loved by the one you love, and… and then… losing them… it’s the worst thing I could imagine.” He swallowed. Tried not to think of what it would be like to be with Isabela for a while, before she’d leave him forever. Tried not to imagine what it’d be like to have Templars drag Anders from their shared home.

Suddenly, there was a hand over his, easing his fingers open again. “Breathe, Hawke,” Justice said. “I did not know my questions would upset you so. I did not intend to cause you pain.”

Hawke shook his head. His chest was tight. He couldn’t breathe even if he wanted to. Instead, he said, “I lost people I loved. My Father. My Brother. My Sister. I can’t… losing a lover who I chose… I just… I couldn’t… but…” He swallowed, forcing air down his throat before the lump returned. “Love can go wrong, too. Sometimes, people are… they corrupt it. Call it love when they only desire. Desire to possess. Not… share. Bind, make another their own by all means. It’s…” He glanced up at Justice. “It’s almost as if love were a Spirit, emboldening, benevolent, strong. But in some people it gets corrupted into a Demon, possessing and consuming until there’s nothing left.”

Justice’s expression turned unreadable. He’d sat back again, withdrawn his hand. “I… see. As all mortal concepts, love is good and bad, depending on the people and the situation.” He put a hand over his heart and listened for a moment, before he went on. “And yet… I still long to experience the contentment I felt in Kristoff’s memories for myself. However…” His eyes slipped closed for a moment. “I remember the pain it caused his wife to see me walk around in his corpse. I think… I understand what you said about losing a loved one. Still, I am sorry to have reminded you of your grief, Hawke.”

Hawke opened his mouth, but closed it again when Justice held up a hand.

“I may have had an incomplete impression of you, Hawke,” Justice declared. “You are a good person. You may lie and cheat, but you care. That, I have learned, is one of the most important qualities of mortals. If you truly wish to court Anders I will not stand in your way.”

"Hold on,” Hawke burst out after the long moments when he’d struggled to pick his jaw back up. “How… when… uh… where did that come from?”

“You say you are joking when he turns down the tokens and proofs of your affection,” Justice stated. “But you are lying. You know you are lying. He knows you are lying. Even I can tell you are lying. As is Anders when he-”

“STOP.” Hawke had leapt to his feet and was pressing his hands to his ears. “I don’t want to hear that.”

Justice stared at him. Then, he nodded slowly. “I see. Is this one of those times when the ‘who’ is just as important as the ‘what’?”

After a few deep breaths, Hawke sat back down. He nodded. “Maybe even more important,” he murmured.

“Should I ask him again if he really does not want to eat the food you have brought him? Would that please you?” Justice asked.

“No,” Hawke shook his head. He finally started to take the food from the basket, two well-sealed jars, a pair of plates and cutlery, and at last a flat box. “I meant it when I said the food is for you. Anders told us you liked how our world looked, as a corpse, and, well, now that you have a living body… I thought it would be an idea to show you more of your senses… ehr… sensual pleasures? Food can taste and smell so good. And Anders probably doesn’t eat all that well usually. So…” He ended on a shrug.

Justice looked at what Hawke had laid out for a moment and then back up at him. “That is a surprisingly thoughtful reasoning you keep repeating.”

“I just didn’t know you’d listened,” Hawke burst out. He felt a bit flustered. "Anders said he usually sleeps when you... switch."

"I was listening.” Neither Justice’s words nor inflection betrayed whether that was the usual or not. “Anders and I had been fighting before you arrived. He is displeased with me as I am with him. We could not reach an agreement yet."

"What about?" Hawke was curious. Anders had mentioned him and Justice disagreeing on occasion but it was the first time he’d heard about a fight. “If it’s alright to tell me.”

Justice studied Hawke’s face for a moment before he said flatly, "I do not agree with the companions he chooses. Nor all of his acts."

Instinctively, Hawke wondered if Justice was talking about him. But he also remembered what Anders had said when he’d opened the door and ushered him inside to end the conversation. "...Isabela?" he guessed.

"The Pirate, yes. She is the one we argue about the most.” Justice nodded solemnly. “We both hoped she and you would find agreement, Hawke."

“I…” Hawke faltered. He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I hoped we would, too.”

Unwilling to stay on the topic much longer than necessary, Hawke pulled one of the jars close and levered the lid off with his knife. Justice watched him curiously as he opened the second jar as well. At last, Hawke took the lid off the box.

“It’s not much more than the leftovers from lunch but I thought, before it goes to waste and I don’t even know what you like so it shouldn’t be too fancy but also not too plain and…” Hawke pressed his lips together. He took a deep breath through his nose. “It’s fish, rice and some lemony sauce. All good cold.”

Justice watched with interest as Hawke first put the filleted fish on each their plates, then the rice and lastly the sauce across both. “It looks pleasurable,” he declared at last. “I am sure there is no reason for you to be this nervous. I trust that you did not do this lightly and were thinking of us before yourself when picking the meal and bringing it down.”

“I’m not nervous!” Hawke defended himself. He held out a set of cutlery, without looking at Justice. “Where’d you get that idea?”

“You are blabbering, Hawke,” Justice said. He mimicked Hawke holding fork and knife with some curiosity. “Anders blabbers when he is nervous. You often blabber when you’re talking to us. You never blabber when talking to strangers. Why is that?”

Hawke concentrated on his plate for a moment. “I…” he tried. Then, he cut a bit off the fish and started to eat a couple of bites. “Well, it’s…” He gave up. “Please do try the fish,” he repeated a phrase his mother often used when they were entertaining guests.

“You are avoiding my question,” Justice observed. He took a bite of the fish and sauce anyway, closing his eyes while he chewed. “This food is very pleasant,” he concluded when he’d swallowed. “It makes me glean an understanding why you mortals treat animals differently from people. It would be hard to eat such flesh if it were different.”

“Oh!” Hawke looked up. “Should I have gotten you something without meat? I really didn’t think about that!”

Justice shook his head. “Before I came into this world, I did not understand your drive to hunt. But fish brings memories of the Fade for me, of when I met the Commander. And Anders. There was a fishing village. I’d like to think their fish tasted the same for them as this does for me. Is that strange?”

Hawke blinked at him. Anders didn’t talk much about his time with the wardens. Most of what he’d heard so far were vague stories of Justice possessing the corpse of a dead warden for some time. He’d never heard the story of how they met. “You…” He bit back the question. “No, it’s not strange,” he assured Justice instead. “If the people in that fishing village were your friends, it’s only natural that you want them to share good things with them, even across time.”

“Friends…” Justice was staring off into the middle distance as he seemed to taste the word. “I am not sure if I could dare to call them such. I understood mortals even less then than I do now. I did not care for them like I cared for others in this world since. All I wanted then was to bring justice to those who’d been gravely wronged. But in the end, all I could give them was the peace of death.”

Hawke looked at Justice while he was searching for the right words. In the end, after a long pause, all he had was still only, “I’m sorry.” It didn’t feel sufficient for what Justice had bared of himself, him alone, before he’d shared anyone’s memories. Hawke felt like he’d been let in on a secret nobody else knew.

"Don’t be, Hawke,” Justice said. He cut another piece off his fish. “Their empty bodies in this realm of existence had long been gone. They could have been trapped in the fade for many more centuries. It was the just thing to do. If not for the Commander, we might have failed. But as it was, those people were allowed to leave a world they didn’t belong in, into which they’d been brought by blood magic. They were allowed the justice they deserved and demanded, albeit many years too late.” If Hawke had thought it possible, he’d said Justice was looking somewhat morose. His voice, however, betrayed no perceptible emotion.

Hawke moved the bit of rice he’d left around his plate with his fork for a while. This wasn’t going as he’d imagined at all. However, he wasn’t sure if that was bad. After all, Justice had trusted him when he’d told the story. It was more than mere friendly banter. Hawke gave up. It was only just.

"You asked why I was always so nervous when I talk to you. Both of you.” Hawke put his cutlery down. He took a deep breath. “You intimidated me, Justice. I… I didn’t really know you before yesterday. Or today, maybe. I felt like I’m not good enough in your eyes. I could be so much better. But I’m shrewd and I know it. I like it. It works for me. I can’t be as good as I’d like to be. I can’t save everyone. I’m not the Hero of Ferelden. I couldn’t even protect my brother. I couldn’t save Beth… So I keep distance. I cheat. I lie. I get through the day.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m nervous with Anders because I can’t keep my distance. I try. I try with Isabela, I try with him. I keep slipping.” He hung his head. “I hope to experience love, too. I also want to feel content around somebody who’s important. I want to wake up and not be alone. I want forever to mean at least a couple of decades. Up until now, most trysts didn’t even last ‘til the morning. Sometimes I think it’s me. Something is wrong with me that I can’t make it last.”

Hawke ruffled his hair. He dragged his left hand down his face and then dropped it until it was clutching the front of his shirt. “It’s hard being human. I try to be strong. I try so much that I’ve forgotten how to lay myself bare to others. I need to be strong for my friends to like myself. But I’m not. I can’t… how should I Iook Isabela in the eyes? I don’t want to be friends who happen to sleep with each other. I went along because it seemed like the only shot I had but I can’t… I can’t…”

“Breathe, Hawke.”  
Justice had gotten up and around the crate. He’d put his hands on Hawke’s shoulder. The look in his blue eyes was calm, even. “Breathe, Hawke,” he repeated. “In, out. In, out.” He was speaking slowly, making sure Hawke understood him. He was mimicking Anders now, Hawke realized. Even the cadence of his voice was modulated the way Anders did when he was talking to patients.

Hawke calmed down again, even though his heart was still pounding. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I just wanted to… you told me something so personal and I… every once in a while it’s good… to be honest, I mean, to open, but…” He brushed his bangs back. “I got worked up,” he concluded.

Justice dropped his hands from Hawke’s shoulders. Instead of walking back to his seat, however, he sat down next to Hawke on his cot. “You are wrong in one thing, Hawke,” he said slowly. “I do not judge you. I do not find you wanting.” He put a hand on his chest with his eyes closed for a moment. “It is relieving to tell old memories to people that you trust. I am glad I told you of the people of Blackmarch. I am also glad you shared your feelings with me. I will treasure the memory of the trust you have shown me.”

“Thank you, Justice,” Hawke sighed. He leaned a little against Justice’s rigid frame. “You’re a good friend. Anders is right there. You really are.”

“Even when I cannot help you, Hawke?” Justice asked. “All I did was listen.”

“It was all you had to do,” Hawke said. He looked at their mostly empty plates. “We should do this again. Or you could come to my place. If you take the cellars nobody will see you. Please?”

"That would be most agreeable, Hawke.” Justice nodded. “I must thank you as well. You were very patient with my questions. I feel like I can now understand better why Anders and I were in disagreement earlier. You helped me. You, too, are a good friend.”

On instinct, Hawke turned his upper body toward Justice. Justice turned as well, his head cocked to the side in silent question. Hawke pulled him into a quick hug. Then, he lightly rested his forehead against Justice’s.

“This feels… intimate,” Justice said after a long while. He was obviously trying to speak softly.

“Bad?” Hawke asked. His eyes had slipped closed at some point, but he could still see the after image of the blue lines around Justice’s eyes.

“No. I feel content. It is good.”

Hawke breathed out a sigh of relief. “Yes. I do, too.”


	4. Hawke/Isabela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I MEANT THIS TO BE A PWP CHAPTER //sobs  
> Well, but the characters didn't, apparently. There are a lot of feelings instead.

Hawke’s entire body ached. He hadn’t even greeted his mother as he’d gotten home, just waved Bodhain away and trudged up to his room. He considered simply collapsing on his bed, armor, dirt and sweat be damned.

Only for a second.

The bath he opted for instead did him well. His sore muscles relaxed, his skin and hair scrubbed, he felt nearly human again. A couple of days up on Sundermount, exploring recently opened caves and fighting waves upon waves of undead inside wasn’t unusual for him, but after, he sometimes did wonder why he’d never listen to his mother’s exasperated advice. Be more like other Hightown nobles and stay indoors. Broker deals on what the Bone Pit allowed to be taken from it instead of taking on yet another group of dragonlings or spiders to make it save for the workers. Marry.

He dropped down heavily on the chair in front of his desk. For a long moment he stared at the wall, unseeing. His mother still insisted on introducing him to young noblewomen, even, occasionally, noblemen. She had let up lately, though. Ever since the debacle with Isabela a month ago, he mused. Or maybe he was just lucky and ball season was winding down for the first time since he’d moved up to their old family estate.

Or maybe, she’d taken his verbal weaving and dodging when he’d told her about his ‘new friend’ he’d taken dinner to as a sign that he’d met someone he wasn’t ready to tell her about yet. Hawke blinked. There was a chance the times, usually about once a week, when he’d go down to the Clinic to spend time with Justice would look like dates. He was nervous before, careful in the selection of food and drink, and relaxed after. He swallowed. If that was the case, how should he react when his mother would eventually ask him to bring his lover home to meet her.

Hawke buried his head in his hands and groaned softly. Introducing Justice to his mother was about as easy and as likely to go down well as taking Justice to the Wounded Coast for a long walk at the beach. Even though a walk at the beach would be nice. They could sit in the sand and talk, watch the sea and the sun, listen to seagulls and the distant screams of brigands. Justice could tell him some more about Amaranthine. He could answer some more questions about mortal customs and emotions.

He sighed.

“What’s a handsome man like you sighing about, all alone in his bedroom,” came a voice from the window behind him. Hawke didn’t move, not even when he heard her prowl over, nor when she put her hands on his shoulders. “Did you miss me that much while you were hiking in the mountains?” Isabela purred into his ear. It sent shivers down his spine.

Hawke let his hands drop from his face, leaning his head back in the same motion, until the back of his head was against Isabela’s belly. He closed his eyes. “I was just thinking about how wonderful it would be to add ‘pleasantly’ to all the ways I’m exhausted in,” he sighed. Isabela smelled so nice. Her hands were so warm. If it was up to him, they could stay as they were for the rest of the night.

Isabela bent forward so she could put a kiss on his forehead. “Is that what you think I came for?” she purred. She ran a hand down his chest. “Don’t you want to tell me your worries first?”

He put his hand on hers and pressed it harder against his chest. His heart was beating evenly, he was sure there was no flutter to give him away, only the thrum of arousal she’d expect. “And here I thought you’d want to keep our relationship strictly physical.”

She smacked him lightly. “We’re still friends,” she huffed. “You can still tell me things. I just don’t want you to go all mushy on me.”

“Fine,” Hawke sighed. “You can listen to my weird problems and then we can go to bed. If that’s what you came for.”

“Weird how?” She straightened back up and walked around him, taking a seat on his desk.

“Dinner with a Fade Spirit weird?” Hawke offered.

She blinked. “Dinner?”

“Dinners, even,” he confirmed. “I… I uh… I brought Justice dinner after that card night and then… well, we got talking. It got late. We did it again. And now Mother will start asking about my new friend soon and… Isabela, what should I tell her? I can’t just… She shouldn’t… I can’t introduce them.”

Isabela blinked at him. “You know you could definitely do better than having rendezvous with Justice,” she laughed. “Well, how’re his kisses? Does it taste like lyrium? Does it make you tingle all over?”

“Isabela!” Hawke snapped. Reconsidering his tone, he swatted her knee. “We haven’t kissed.”

“Yet.” Isabela winked. “C’mon. You can tell me of all people who you want to kiss. I won’t tell.” She tapped her lower lip. “Or we could compare Justice kisses with Anders kisses. If you want to hear how he kisses…”

“Right.” Hawke leaned back, but his hand remained on her naked knee. He’d only have to slide it up a little to her hips, to sate at least his physical desires. “How long ago was that night with Anders? Five years? Ancient history.”

Isabela leaned forward. “That’s assuming we didn’t get alone time since,” she purred. “Which, for the record, we did. I could tell you some stories.” She smiled. It wasn’t predatory in Hawke’s eye, but it wasn’t as soft as she was aiming for either. “I know you’re interested in him, too.”

“You don’t sound too bothered by that,” Hawke pouted. Then, quickly, he remembered who he was talking to. He looked her over, memorizing what he could of her body, avoiding her face when it came to close scrutiny. Flirty. He could do flirty. It’d relax them both. He had to keep telling himself that what he was doing with Isabela was barely more than a game. “So… you’re interested. I’m interested. What can we do about… no… with that?” He scratched his beard. “Is he even interested in me?”

Isabela smirked. “He’s not opposed to a threesome with the two of us.”

“So you already asked,” Hawke said, raising an eyebrow. He was matching Isabela’s smirk, though. “About me specifically or just about threesomes in general?”

“In particular, you.” She booped his nose. “He’s just as curious as I was.”

He put a hand on her waist. Just short of possessive, a light touch she could shake if she wanted. “Knowing you, you probably discussed me in detail. Likely even while you already were in bed. Or is that my, quote, overly large ego doing the thinking?”

“It’s not just your giant ego,” she hummed. “As you said, you know me so well. The mention of my fantasies for you two to try had him all hot and bothered. He also needed much less foreplay than usual.” Gently, she guided his hand up from her waist over her side to her breast. “If I didn’t know it better, I’d say he wants you, badly.”

Hawke hummed deep in his chest. He didn’t care much if Isabela was telling the truth or just saying things to get him into the right mood. Eventually, he’d probably just ask Anders himself, but for the time being he was content as he was, with one hand on her breast, his thumb rubbing through the fabric of her tunic over her hardening nipple. However, he couldn’t deny that the image her words were painting had an effect on him. He could imagine all too vividly Anders in Isabela’s bed, stark naked, listening to her every word while she whispered her dirty fantasies in his ear, one hand around his cock.

Hawke bit back a low whine.

Isabela arched into his touch, smirking like that cat that’d just gotten and drunk the cream and then polished off an entire plate of meat. “You sound like you want him just as bad,” she purred. She put her hand to his cheek in a light caress. “Can you promise me I’ll be there with you when you act on all that want and need, sweet thing? Will you let me join you?”

“Yes,” Hawke gasped. “Yes, yes, of course. I’ll tell you before. Or better, you bring him along for one of your late night visits to my bed. I know how much you like being in control.” His hand slipped off her chest again, down to the slit in her skirt. He could feel her naked skin, hot and silken, his fingertips brushing against her smalls as he palms her thigh.

She put her hands on his shoulders, half pushing, half pulling him off his chair and onto the floor between her spread legs. “I really could bring him along sometime.” Swatting his hand away, she hooked her own fingers in her smalls and tugged them down as far as she could without getting up. “D’you mind getting my boots off?” She lifted her legs one after the other, allowing Hawke to free her feet of their leathery confines and then even brush her smalls down until they drop on the floor all by themselves. “What would you do if I did bring him? Would you even look at me then?”

Hawke blinked up at her. He couldn’t even imagine ignoring her for anyone, couldn’t imagine not being aware of her whenever they were in the same room. But he couldn’t say that out loud, either, not to her directly. “He wouldn’t jump me like you did, would he?” Hawke said, heavy breathing from his arousal driving the lightness from his tone. “So I’d take him by his hand. Lead him over to the bed. Sit down with him so you have a good view from right here at the desk. I’d be waiting for you to join us, but I’d also enjoy having him to myself for a while.”

She hummed contently as he ran his fingers up and own the insides of her thighs, not quite the right pressure to send shivers down her spine but enough to get her to spread her legs wide enough for him to fit between. “Hmmm, he likely wouldn’t jump you.” She let a smile filter into her voice as she went on. If it didn’t reach her eyes, Hawke couldn’t see with where his gaze was directed. “It’s awfully sweet actually, that you’d lead him to your bed by his hand. I’d let you be then. Allow you to get him comfortable all you want. Undress him, however slow you want to take it. He likes being kissed much more than I do, so try to incorporate that.” She brushed a hand through his hair, urging him a little closer. Her fingers wanted to clench, hold him with a possessiveness that made her withdraw for a second before she had herself under control again. No, sharing Hawke was definitely better. And if that feeling she had in the hollow of her stomach would return when Anders was there, too, she’d just get up and lea—

He pushed her tunic up and ran his thumbs up her belly, massaging heat into where all she’d felt for a moment had been cold. “I couldn’t take too long, though,” Hawke murmured. “Couldn’t let you wait all night.” He pressed a kiss right under her belly button. “Maybe if you called out directions, but…” Another kiss, half an inch lower. Isabela shuddered. “You should join us on bed soon, when we’re naked at the latest. So we could show you…” Another kiss, barely above her pubes. “Two is better than one.” He looked up at her briefly, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

“Two dicks?” Isabela couldn’t help the undignified snort erupting from her. She hadn’t even noticed how tense she’d been for a moment. 

“Hmmmm, those, too, but I was thinking more of men to do your bidding,” Hawke hummed, mouth still almost against her skin, his breath warming her inside and out. “Two to caress you.” His left hand trailed down her leg to her knee. “Two to kiss you everywhere…” He pressed his mouth to her mound. “Two to please you…” With one finger, he lightly traced her outer lips up and down.

Involuntarily she’d started to knead her breast, thinking how it’d be if she’d be able to lean back against a lean chest, the long-fingered hand on her chest not her own. Lips on her neck, nipping at her earlobe… She moaned softly as Hawke slipped a finger inside her, just the tip, teasing her entrance more than actually pushing inside.

“We could be so good to you if he were willing.” Hawke’s voice was getting raw from the same need she was feeling herself. “So, so good. Giving you all you ever wanted in bed. We’d…”

She couldn’t bear listening to his promises anymore. It sounded so sweet, so good, almost pure and she just couldn’t… Both hands on the back of his head she pushed him forward. Raised her hips so he’d get the hint. Hoped she could shut him up, could shut her heart up, if she kept his mouth otherwise occupied. The fantasy he’d painted for her was too good to ever become true. There were no happy endings, not in this world. There was no middle ground between bonded til death and the freedom of the truly unbound. However, for a moment, she’d hoped.

Hawke went pliantly, groaning softly against her heated flesh. Nudged at her legs to spread them just a little further. Just like the last time, he was following her lead, without protest or discussion, flowing with the directions and pace she set. The overwhelming feeling of it all threatened to drown her again. She bowed over, wrapping herself around him as much as she could.

Right when he started to suck at her labia.

She let out a quiet sob at that. She knew she was shaking, that he’d have to notice she was. But she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t shut it down. However much she tried, it only got worse, not better. She couldn’t even concentrate on his mouth on her. The physical pleasure wasn’t enough to chase away the maelstrom of feelings, was even hard to feel because of it.

“Isabela?” Hawke asked, voice awkwardly muffled. “Are you alright?”

“I…” She leaned back, giving him a little bit of space. “I don’t know.” Admitting it wasn’t easy. She could hear her voice shake. “I don’t… I don’t even know what’s wrong. I want you, I want you to go on, but…”

He sat back, hands on the insides of her knees. Looked up at her. “But?” Worry was sneaking in his voice. “Did I hurt you? ...should I… shouldn’t I have talked about… uh… what I was talking about? What did I do wrong? Please, Isabela, tell me, so I don’t do it again. Ever.”

Her heart started to ache as he looked at her with this big blue eyes filled with worries and a serious expression to fix whatever he’d done wrong. It was almost unbearable how he’d always instinctively assume he’d done something wrong when they were alone, like it couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with her. She swallowed thickly. It was exactly why she didn’t think she could stay for more than half a night. But, at the same time… She pressed her lips together. It was also the reason why she’d felt drawn to him. He didn’t blame her for his moods, he didn’t blame her for everything wrong, he just… wanted to understand her better sometimes.

“I’m just a bit…” she tried to slip her usual mask back on. Baring herself in front of Hawke, making herself vulnerable in front of any man, made her feel incredibly uncomfortable. “Overwhelmed, I guess.” She laughed it off. “I had a long day and my head is too full for this. I shouldn’t have come here to bother you.”

“You…” Hawke pressed his lips together. Involuntarily, Isabela tensed ever so slightly, expecting a blow. “You’re not bothering me,” he said, slowly. He raised a hand to her cheek, not quite touching her. “You’d never be bothering me, no matter when you come to see me. Or what you do and don’t want to do. We don’t have to have… I don’t need to sleep with you every time we’re alone.  _ You  _ don’t need to sleep with  _ me  _ just because we’re alone.”

She leaned into his hand, counting the seconds she could bear the gentle touch in her head first to see how long she’d manage. Then to calm. Finally, she relaxed. “If we take this beyond sex,” she tried to laugh but there was a slight tremor in her voice. “If we take this beyond, it’ll be serious. It’ll be a relationship. And I can’t… I don’t think I can, ever again… I…” She lifted her hands then frustratedly let them fall again. She huffed. “This is silly. You’re making me act silly. I  _ am  _ acting silly. This is not like me, at all.”

He blinked at her. “Isabela…” It had sounded so much like the admission of feelings he’d craved. And yet it made him ache with how little she seemed to want those feelings. He wanted to ask if that was why she was sleeping with other people when he’d be completely hers should she want that. Wanted to know whatever circumstance had made her hate the mere idea of a relationship. If it was a person, Hawke’d loved to break their nose for it.

He collected himself. That trail of thought lead to too dark a place. Right now, he knew Isabella needed him not to go down that trail. They could both do with light. So, he pressed a hand to his chest in mock shock, looking up at her with his eyes wide and mouth agape. “You wound me, Isabela! It is usually perfectly platonic when I invite people to my home. Even though I have to admit, it is hard to resist Varric, sometimes.”

“Really now?” Isabela shot him a lopsided smile. “So you’re saying we could, what? Get food and then cuddle until we fall asleep?”

Hawke shrugged. “Why not? Or…” He stretched, then pulled a face as his shoulders popped. “We could go straight to the strictly platonic cuddles in bed. Or on the couch in the library, if you’d prefer that.”

“The couch,” Isabela quickly said. The bed would be too intimate. Lying on the couch together was intimate, too, domestic, even, but not as suffocating as the bed would be.

Hawke shuffled back at that. “Well, then, uh…” He looked at the door. “Mother might be home sometime soon, so… uh… would you like to borrow some pants?”

Isabela laughed, free from the pressure in her chest. “Yes. Actually, I do, for once. Can’t let Mommy Hawke catch me with her dear, innocent, son and my pants down.” She winked.

It took them a while to settle in on the couch in the library. First, Hawke had searched with increasing desperation for pants that either fit him tightly or even were too small. He eventually gave up and just offered some that were shorts on him and a belt. Isabela knew she’d have to look ridiculous, but right there and then it didn’t bother her. Hawke also lit a fire in the large fireplace, fumbling a little with the flints and cinder. In the meantime, Isabela scratched the head of Dog, who’d snuck in with them and clearly enjoying the attention.

“Uh, can I get anything?” Hawke asked. He stood awkwardly between the couch and the fireplace, looking somewhat lost. “Tea? Wine? Or, Mother currently insists on having cocoa in the house, so I could make hot chocolate?”

Isabela raised her eyebrows at Dog. “Did you hear that, too? Hawke said hot chocolate, didn’t he?”

Dog let out a whoof of agreement.

“Do we want hot chocolate?”

Another whoof.

“Hm, maybe just water for you, though.”

A whine.

“Chocolate is not good for dogs,” Hawke interjected, looking stern at his Mabari.

Another whine, before Dog decided it wasn’t worth it and put his head back on Isabela’s lap for more scratches.

When Hawke returned with two mugs, Dog was snoring softly at Isabela’s feet. Isabela herself was staring into the flames, mind obviously elsewhere. He softly put the mugs down on the table by the side of the couch before he sat down as well, leaving comfortable space between them.

Isabela didn’t turn away from the flames.

At long last, Hawke broke the silence. “...is there anything I could do to make it better?” he rumbled, his chest tight, his voice husky.

Isabela blinked for a moment, slowly coming back to herself. She turned to Hawke, sadness shining through her smile. “You’re doing more than enough.” She reached out to squeeze his hand. “I’ll be alright. Promise.”

“I…” Hawke looked down at their entwined hands. He swallowed. “It’s okay, though, if you aren’t. You don’t have to be alright. You’re my friend either way.”

Isabela shook her head. “A part of me wants to be alright, however small or big it might be. I can’t just seek comfort a night at a time for the rest of my life.” She shuddered. “I can’t even bring myself to settle down. It already feels like I’ve been here in this city three years too long.” She leaned against his shoulder. “I won’t leave. Not yet. But it’d help to know that I could.”

“If you ever need to leave, Isabela…” Hawke squeezed her hand back. “I promise you I’ll do whatever I can to help you. Talk the Dalish into taking you in. Fight every single Templar in the gallows. Debate the Arishok.”

She lightly shoved her shoulder against him. “I always liked your sense of humor.” She turned to kiss his cheek. “But thank you. I know you mean it.”

“Just tell me when you find a ship you like,” Hawke rumbled. The cheek Isabela’d kissed burned. “Whatever you need, Isabela, muscle or money. I’ll be there. I promise.”

 


End file.
